


Not How It Was Supposed To Be

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Christmas, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:04:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: It all felt like something from the plot of a terrible action movie, and Face couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he might have dreamed the entire thing, though that was probably the morphine.This really wasn’t how it was supposed to be.





	

“‘How about Christmas in Paris’, the man said.” Face shifted carefully on the frozen ground, tugging the emergency blanket a little closer around his shoulders as he continued to mutter to himself, his breath fogging around his face in the cold air. “‘It’ll be romantic’, he said. Romantic my ass. If this is romance, then please, God, just kill me now.”

“Are you delirious or just talking to yourself?” A deep voice drifted unexpectedly out of the dark forest as Hannibal’s shadowy form appeared from the trees, and Face tried desperately not to jump in surprise, but still managed to jolt his injured and splinted leg painfully.

“Damn it…” he gasped, hunching forwards and dropping his hands to clutch just above his knee, which did nothing at all to soothe the sudden burst of agony. He cursed himself silently for the involuntary whine that slipped from his lips.

In immediate response, Hannibal dropped the armful of dry branches he’d been gathering and hurried across the clearing to Face’s side. 

“Easy, kid,” Hannibal soothed, hands fluttering around Face in uncharacteristic helplessness and clearly not quite knowing where he could touch without causing more pain. Eventually he settled for resting one gloved hand on Face’s shoulder, rubbing in gentle circles, and Face leaned gladly into the reassuring presence. “Sorry I startled you. Just sit still, try to relax.”

“Relax?” Face half-choked on a laugh, allowing Hannibal to ease him back into a sitting position against his rock. “That’s easier said than done right at this moment in time.”

“I know.” In the near-darkness of the winter’s evening, it was almost impossible for Face to see Hannibal clearly, but the heavy pause that followed his lover’s words told Face that the older man was still busy blaming himself. And sure enough – “I’m so sorry, Face.”

Reaching out to find Hannibal’s other hand, Face squeezed it gently and heaved a tired sigh. “This isn’t your fault, boss, in spite of how much I might’ve cursed you when you set my leg earlier.”

Hannibal’s shadow shifted closer until Face felt warm breath on his forehead, followed immediately by hot lips pressing a tender kiss to his temple, just beneath his beanie hat. “I’m still sorry, though,” Hannibal whispered into his skin. “This is not how it was supposed to be, I swear.”

That, Face felt, had to be the understatement of the year, if not the entire decade. 

He opened his mouth to reply, hoping to reassure his lover somehow, but the wintery wind chose that moment to gust around their clearing and swallow his sarcastic words. Around them, the snow and fallen leaves were swept back up into the air, and Face could feel the temperature continuing to drop even through his many weatherproof layers. Thankfully the threat of snow seemed to be holding off for the time being, even though the storm clouds filling the sky obscured the moon and stars above them.

With one final squeeze of Face’s shoulder, Hannibal moved away to gather up the dry wood he’d dropped. Feeling momentarily bereft, Face tugged his foil blanket a little tighter still and tried to relax as his lover swiftly set about trying to get a fire started, relieved when the throbbing pain in his leg started to slip back into the blessed numbness only a cloud of morphine could deliver. 

This really wasn’t how it was supposed to be. 

Rather than trying to follow Hannibal’s shadowed movements, Face let his eyes slip closed once more, thinking again about the ridiculous chain of events that had led to them being stranded in a forest clearing somewhere in Germany on Christmas Eve. It all felt like something from the plot of a terrible action movie, and he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he might have dreamed the entire thing, though that was probably the morphine.

A private plane, hired by Hannibal to take the two of them from Mannheim base in Germany to spend Christmas together in Paris. 

The pilot turning the plane eastwards in an unexpected and unwanted detour, pulling a gun when Hannibal had questioned his route. 

The brief but ferocious fight that had followed, resulting in the pilot leaping from the door of the plane wearing a parachute and clutching the other two packs in his arms. 

The control panel, damaged during the fight, that led to the plane going down rapidly over a sprawling forest just as night was falling.

The ominous gap in Face’s memory between Hannibal shouting at him to get strapped in to a seat, and waking up screaming in agony, lying on his back on the frozen ground as a determined Hannibal set his broken right leg, dying flames from their burning plane casting an odd halo around him.

“There, got it going at last!” Hannibal’s self-satisfied proclamation snapped Face’s eyes back open, and he realised with a pang that he really hadn’t dreamed everything after all. There was a new fire burning merrily close to where he sat, the warmth just starting to reach him, and the flickering flames cast strangely beautiful shadows across the snowy forest. “That should keep us a bit more comfortable until the rescue team can get to us.”

“Hmm, good job, lover.” At last Face could see Hannibal clearly for the first time since he’d woken in the early evening darkness, and what he saw made his heart clench and brought a frown to his face. Hannibal was filthy, covered in a combination of mud and soot from head to toe, and there was a vivid bruise on his swollen left cheek. “You okay?”

“Am I okay?” Hannibal sounded slightly incredulous as he turned bright blue eyes onto Face. “I should be asking you that, surely?”

“Me? I’m just fine, so long as I don’t move.” 

Surprisingly, that was actually close to being true – Hannibal had really done a brilliant job splinting his broken leg from ankle to hip with a couple of long branches, and his foresight in grabbing their emergency packs from the burning wreckage of their tiny plane meant that Face was well wrapped in emergency blankets and doped up on the good drugs.

It was unlikely that Hannibal had escaped the crash completely unscathed, of course, but their combined injuries really could have been so much worse. Bumps, bruises, minor burns, and one broken leg – they’d been so lucky.

Still, Face didn’t protest as Hannibal tugged off his gloves before peeling back the blankets in order to check on Face’s leg, the colonel’s cold fingers feeling the pulse in his ankle and checking the circulation in his toes – there was no sharp pain, just a dull ache right down to his broken bones, and within minutes Hannibal had bundled Face back up again.

Feeling himself drifting slightly in the hypnotising light from the fire, Face was distantly aware of Hannibal moving up to sit by his side against the rock, nudging him with a strong shoulder. “Hey, stay awake now, okay? No falling asleep on me.”

“I’m awake, I promise.” Face’d had more than enough concussions in his time to know that he’d somehow escaped without one this time, but he also had enough experience with a worried and overprotective Hannibal to know that his lover wouldn’t take his word for it. Time for a tactful change of subject, perhaps. “So, what’s for Christmas dinner then?” he asked, blinking heavily to keep his eyes open and trying not to sound as sleepy as he felt.

Hannibal chuckled deep in his chest, the sound rumbling through Face where they were pressed so closely together. “I’ve got the finest vintage of bottled water and some truly delicious energy bars. Not quite the meal I’d intended for us to be sharing right now, but then I didn’t think I’d need to pack the MREs for this particular trip.”

Face accepted the bottle Hannibal pressed into his hands, but he couldn’t help but frown at the note of self-recrimination still present in his lover’s voice. “Energy bars are far better than MREs, Hannibal, you know that. And I guess we should’ve been in a hotel somewhere by now, right?”

“Right,” Hannibal confirmed. “It was meant to be a surprise, in small return for all those times you’ve managed to arrange an amazing surprise for me.” Another tender kiss was pressed to Face’s cheek, and he leaned into it with a satisfied sigh.

“Well, I’ve got to give it to you, Colonel: you definitely surprised me.” Face sipped slowly at the water, shivering slightly as another sudden gust of wind whipped around the clearing and made the fire gutter for a worrying moment. “You’re sure that distress call went out okay?”

“Positive. Trust me, baby, it shouldn’t be too much longer until the cavalry arrives.”

But Hannibal had been saying that for nearly two hours now, and Face suspected something was worrying the older man, something more than just Face’s injuries and the dropping temperature – there was little point questioning him, though, as Face was hardly in any condition to make a difference one way or another, not with his leg snapped in at least two places and his whole body aching.

They really had been incredibly lucky, Face mused yet again – the wreckage of the plane lay in the woods just behind them, already burnt out and useless as shelter, but as the two of them sat side by side in a surprisingly contented silence, at least they were together.

The forest around them was far from silent, of course, filled with the tiny noises of trees creaking in the winter wind and animals calling to each other. The better part of two lifetimes spent in the Rangers meant that neither Hannibal nor Face were particularly worried by the sounds, and neither of them were particularly easy to scare either – they’d been in far worse situations than these, though admittedly not for quite a while, and certainly not on Christmas Eve.

A sudden thought struck Face, and he smirked as he asked, “So, what did you get me for Christmas, then? Or were the flight and hotel my last present? The big Number Twelve?” 

Hannibal had really gone to town this year, surprising Face with a tiny gift on each of the last eleven days – there had been a definite ‘twelve days of Christmas theme’, from one turtle-neck sweater through five gold cock rings to a box of ten dark chocolate truffles. And Face’d had plans to show Hannibal exactly how grateful he was. Athletic plans involving loving Hannibal to within an inch of his life on Christmas morning. Plans that would now, sadly, have to wait until his leg had healed, which could be months away.

Hannibal wrapped one arm around Face’s shoulders and tugged him a little closer before answering with a chuckle, “No, there was still one gift to come. But that’s going to have to remain a surprise for when we eventually do get to Paris.”

“Given how long this damned leg will take to heal up properly, that’s just going to be too long to wait, Hannibal.” Paris seemed a long, long way away, and Face let a note of pleading slip into his voice, knowing his lover would give in to him almost immediately. “How about a hint or two? Please?”

Another chuckle, followed by a long pause, before Hannibal answered quietly, “The hotel are keeping it in their safe for me. It’s only small; maybe two inches square. A little box.” A pause, then – “A ring box.”

The morphine cushioned the shock somewhat, and, as if from a distance, Face heard himself ask, “And is there anything inside that ring box?” 

“Maybe.” Hannibal pressed a lingering kiss to Face’s forehead, his voice little more than a whisper, almost getting carried away on the wintery winds. “It can mean something, or it can mean nothing at all, that’s entirely up to you. It can mean whatever you want it to mean.”

Immediately, Face knew he wanted it to mean nothing less than forever and a day, and he grinned in the firelight as he carefully snuggled closer to Hannibal’s warmth. But this was hardly the time or place for the big question itself, or for his proper answer, so instead he gently teased, “I want you down on one knee when you ask me properly, you do realise.”

“Naturally.” Another little kiss, and Face could feel Hannibal’s smile against his skin. “And maybe it won’t be in Paris after all. Maybe I’ll just have to come up with another surprise for you, to keep you guessing a little longer.” 

“Another surprise? Honestly, Hannibal, I’m not sure I can survive any more of your surprises this Christmas!”

It was meant to be a light-hearted comment to lift the mood, but instead Hannibal’s arm tightened even further around Face and the older man hissed, “Don’t even joke about that, okay? Not now, not ever.” A fierce, possessive kiss landed on Face’s cheek, followed immediately by gentle fingers slipping beneath his chin, lifting and turning his head so their lips could meet in a proper kiss.

In spite of the circumstances, in spite of the haze of morphine clouding his thoughts and the cold winter wind gusting around the forest – or perhaps because of all those things – Face lost himself happily in his lover’s passionate kiss, closing his eyes and surrendering to the older man’s undeniable warmth and strength. 

When they eventually broke apart, Hannibal sighed softly and breathed, “Well, would you look at that?”

It took Face a long moment to gather his wits enough to force his eyes back open, and when he did, the sight nearly stole his breath away again. “Oh! It’s beautiful.”

Above them, the snow clouds had parted over their little clearing to reveal a clear winter’s sky filled with a thousand shimmering stars, and a tiny sliver of new moon. Face could only stare up in surprised wonder, even as Hannibal tucked his blankets a little tighter around his legs and wrapped strong arms back around his chest.

As they sat side by side and stared upwards, a single star seemed to shine brighter than the others for a split-second, before falling suddenly through the sky and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“Make a wish,” Face whispered with a smile, settling more snugly into his lover’s strong arms. 

“Happy Christmas, baby,” came the hushed reply, while the snow began to fall once again and the distant sounds of a rescue chopper started to echo around the forest.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Karenjd in the Yahoo Hannibal/Face group's Secret Santa story exchange. Huge thanks to Indigo Angels who kindly read an early draft and gave me some very helpful feedback, as well as brilliantly organising the entire exchange.


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